


Mind Games

by Arwin



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Creeper Challenge, Mad King Ryan, Minecraft, minecraft au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:31:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwin/pseuds/Arwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Michael’s pulse raced in his head, the hot rush of blood playing a war drum's beat in the back of his mind. But with every stutter of his heart he could only think of one thing. Gavin, Gavin, Gavin."</p>
<p>Michael is not too happy when the Mad King announces their final challenge - to kill his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Games

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very loose interpretation of the Mad King's Creeper challenge. And this time, Michael's not willing to play along with Ryan's game.

Gavin was always the type of person to mock the enemy that scared him the most. He wore the same pattern the Creepers did - shaded blocks of green that crisscrossed down the thin cloth on his torso and the scarf he always kept close. Michael had never questioned the admittedly strange choice of garb, guessing that Gavin wore it as a sort of joke. It had earned the Brit the nickname "Creeper Boy," but Gavin had embraced that with his usual enthusiasm. 

Never had the words "Creeper Boy" sounded so sinister as they did coming out of the Mad King's mouth.

"So the rest of you will be paying homage to our favorite little Creeper Boy tonight. The costumes are already prepared." King Ryan gazed down at the six men from his throne as Kerry passed out shimmering sets of green clothing. "I think you'll find these costumes to be...unique."

He waved them off to go change, leaving Gavin to wonder exactly what was going on. "Let me get this straight..." He whispered to Michael as he pulled on Ryan's new and improved Creeper suit. "He brought us all here, made us do all these silly competitions, and told us whoever won would win his crown? And now he wants everyone to look like me?”

Michael frowned, turning the shimmery fabric over in his hands. "I don't trust him. He is the Mad King, after all. Why would he hand over his kingdom? What if he's just bored?"

Gavin shrugged, pulling the mask up over his eyes. "This is new," he mused. "My clothes are more of a...tribute to a Creeper. This is pretty legitimate looking."

Michael blinked at him, watching as the blocks of color glittered and almost seemed to shift in place. "They're enchanted," he said, confused. The result made it hard to look straight at Gavin, and he looked less like a gangly boy wearing a checkered green scarf. He was almost formless, nearly indistinguishable from the Creepers that roamed the night.

"We look great, my boi!" Gavin crowed as Michael pulled his mask up.

"Sure," Michael muttered, still unconvinced by King Ryan's gesture of generosity. "Let's go join the others."

The others were three men that Michael and Gavin knew well. The five of them made up a gang that had gained quite a bit of notoriety in Achievement City for drinking and, more importantly, taking down monsters.

"Hey, looking good," someone said, punching Michael's arm affectionately. Michael was startled to find that he had no idea who it was - another formless Creeper looked back at him, and for some reason the voice had been stripped of all identifying characteristics. Michael had the sudden urge to rip the mask off his face, but Ryan's stare stilled his hand.

"Time for the next challenge," Ryan announced lazily. "The last one, in fact. Whoever wins this will receive the crown."

That caused a buzz of excitement among the five of them, but they all quieted quickly to hear the rest of Ryan's instructions. 

"I want you all to spread out, to each of the corners of the Throne Room." They did as they were told, mingling briefly before separating around the fairly huge expanse of grass and royal red carpet.

"Kill Gavin."

Michael couldn't make sense of the words at first. Ryan looked down at them, his face as impassive as ever, so Michael couldn't gauge exactly what was going on.

"Kill him?" A featureless voice asked, a note of confusion clouding their tone. "Kill Gavin?"

"Anyone who removes a mask will face my blade," the Mad King continued, ignoring the question. "The one who cuts him down shall receive my crown."

They all stood very still for a moment, unwilling to lift their swords against a friend, even for this. Gavin was one of them, for better or worse.

Michael felt a surge of relief, in stark contrast to the cold terror that had been growing inside his belly. No one would hurt Gavin. And they wouldn't risk killing someone else instead. This was madness, but they wouldn't play his game.

"If he is not found, I will kill one of you each minute until none still stand," Ryan said calmly, and Michael noticed for the first time the archers positioned on the Throne Room's walls, and the way Ryan's diamond sword glimmered in his hand.

The field exploded as fear took over the minds of the five men. They were a crew, sure, but they were bound more by common interests than by friendship. Except for Michael and Gavin, who had taken to each other very quickly upon the gang's formation. Michael wasn't sure exactly what to call it, but they were close. Painfully close.

Of course, that meant that no one would die for Gavin, not like this. No one but Michael.

He broke into a sprint, cursing himself for not taking notice of where Gavin had been standing when Ryan made them split up. He had to find him, get him to safety somehow. The others would kill him for sure, and that - that couldn't happen. Fear was a cold vice around his heart, squeezing tighter as he came face to face with one of the Creepers.

"Gavin?" He whispered desperately, looking into the dark eyes of the Creeper mask. How would he even know when he found him? "Gavin, please," he croaked, but the figure in front of him merely lifted his sword.

Michael leapt past him, reassuring himself that Gavin wouldn't try to strike him. Gavin would be running, trying to blend in, but he wouldn't kill anyone. Right? Doubt was as bad as the fear, clouding his judgment and only strengthening his panic.

Someone screamed, high-pitched and agonized. Michael glanced sharply to his left, where one of the Creepers was writhing on the ground. A sword had cut him from belly to throat, and the mask had fallen askew.

Michael drew in a sharp breath, praying that it wasn't Gavin on the ground, but dark hair and rectangular glasses were just visible where the mask had been torn away.

Forcing himself to ignore it, Michael pressed on. Scanning the running figures ahead of him, he searched desperately for a clue as to their identities. Everyone looked exactly the same in this damn costume, but Ryan couldn't hide Gavin's long legged stride.

One Creeper's run in particular caught his eye - it was a bouncy sort of stride, a clumsy lope that could only belong to one person.

He wanted to scream out to him, but logic kept his mouth shut. He just had to reach him.

With renewed determination Michael burst forward, eyes trained on the Creeper. So intense was his focus that he nearly missed the blade arcing for his skull.

He gasped and staggered out of the way, bringing up his sword in a hasty defense. "Please," he coughed, struggling to draw air into his lungs. But the figure pressed on, driving attack after attack into Michael's weakest areas. He could barely keep up, but his sloppy defense was making his opponent cocky. He could tell by the set of the other man's shoulders that he knew he was going to win.

Which meant that Michael could kill him.

Whoever this was, it couldn’t be Gavin. But still Michael hesitated, blocking blows with weak parries and wondering if he could really do this. The other man had abandoned all caution and was practically hacking at him now, clearly hoping to overwhelm Michael’s defense through sheer perseverance. It wouldn’t be difficult for Michael to angle his sword just a little bit differently and drive it up through the attacker’s throat. But this was someone he knew well, someone he had fought beside.

Also, someone that was willing to kill Gavin.

Wincing, Michael thrust upwards, catching the soft flesh under the other man’s jaw. Blood spattered onto his mask and the Creeper in front of him crumpled, still jabbing weakly at Michael’s exposed abdomen. As he fell, the mask that had covered his face slipped away and all the magic seemed to seep out of the cloth. Then it was just Geoff, lying on the ground with his eyes slowly closing and a pool of blood around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said hoarsely, bending and gently pressing Geoff’s eyelids closed. This man had been a leader of sorts, someone that Michael had always looked up to despite their differences. He didn’t deserve to be dead here, another corpse for the Mad King to delight in.

Ray and Geoff were both gone, so that only left Jack for Michael to contend with. Last time he had seen Gavin he had been alone and, more importantly, safe, and Michael wished fervently that this was still the case. He emerged from one side of the throne, running across the carefully manicured grass and finally catching sight of another Creeper.

_Gavin?_ He hoped, his heart in his throat, and felt a stir of relief when he noticed that the Creeper was still alone. He didn’t notice the blood spatters on the Creeper’s clothing for a few more heartbeats, and the body that he stood over was invisible until Michael had almost reached him.

A small figure lay convulsing in the grass at the Creeper’s feet, twisting in agony and clutching at a poorly-placed wound in his abdomen.

_Gavin. No._ Michael’s heart seized as he realized that he didn’t know who was still standing and who was dying on the ground. He could already be too late.

“Gavin!” He cried, ripping the mask from his face and charging forward, his sword forgotten in his hand as he stooped to cradle the dying man.

“Michael?” A voice asked, thick with disbelief, and the figure standing above him removed his mask to reveal bright, terrified eyes and a mop of brown hair that Michael knew too well.

Jack died in Michael’s arms, choking out his last breath as Michael laid him gently back onto the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Gavin babbled, crying and dropping his bloodied sword as he looked down at Jack. “I didn’t mean to – I didn’t want this to…” He trailed off, collapsing into Michael’s steady form and sobbing as the other boy held him close.

“It’s okay, it’s over,” Michael soothed him, running his fingers through Gavin’s hair and trying to stop the tremors of relief that were running through his arms.

_God, I nearly lost him,_ he thought, burying his head in Gavin’s shoulder and clutching at the other boy’s shoulder blades until his knuckles turned white.

Gavin eventually drew back, wiping tears from his eyes. “What do we do now?” He asked, his voice still shaky.

“We take care of _him._ Together,” Michael answered in a hiss, leveling his gaze at Ryan. The king now stood only a few paces from them, regarding the scene with an amused look.

“You seem to have forgotten the rules,” the Mad King told them calmly, and then there was blood on Michael’s face and for a moment he didn’t know where it came from.

Gavin stiffened, eyes widening impossibly, as Ryan yanked his thick diamond blade out of his chest.

“ _Michael_?” He asked, voice like a child’s, as he folded forward into Michael’s arms. Michael tried  desperately to hold him up but the other boy was already far away, legs buckling as his eyes took on a glazed look.

“Gavin? Gavin!” Michael cried, crumpling to the ground with him and pawing at the other boy’s chest, frantically trying to stem the flow of blood. Gavin sprawled loosely on the ground, immune to Michael’s tears as his blood started to seep through his best friend’s fingers.

He was gone, so far gone, but a name still hummed through his consciousness as everything went dark.

_Michael. Michael._

Michael was crouched low over Gavin’s body, sobbing as he clutched at his face and neck. His bloody fingers slid over the soft skin of Gavin’s collarbone as he searched for a pulse that wasn’t there, but even with the realization that Gavin was dead he couldn’t pull away. He couldn’t leave his boi lying here, drenched in his own blood, to face this final journey alone.

“I did say not to tamper with the masks,” Ryan reminds him blandly, tapping his massive diamond sword against the earth.

“You…bastard,” Michael cursed shakily, his voice low in his throat as he turned to face the king. “I’ll…I’ll fucking kill you!” The roar was broken in two by the way his voice cracked, but the fury in his eyes was not. Promising himself that he would be back for Gavin, he rose slowly to his feet and leveled his iron blade in Ryan’s direction.

“You are going to regret ever touching that crown,” he promised, squaring his shoulders as the sun began its descent behind him and bathed his auburn curls in fire.

“Show me,” Ryan challenged smoothly, and with that Michael lunged, bringing his sword down with a force that the king had not expected. Ryan caught the blow with the edge of his sword and strained to hold it up against the sheer force of Michael’s determination. Tears were still wet on Michael’s cheeks, but in that moment, Ryan was sure that he had never seen anyone as powerful as the man in front of him.

Michael’s pulse raced in his head, the hot rush of blood playing a war drum’s beat in the back of his mind. But with every stutter of his heart he could only think of one thing. _Gavin, Gavin, Gavin._

_A good game,_ Ryan mused to himself as he watched righteous fury contort every line of Michael’s face. _I’m glad they played so well._

And with that, Ryan tilted his sword so that it slipped free of Michael’s grip and drove the blade into the boy’s stomach.

Michael froze in place, his fingers stiffening as the pain crashed down over him. His sword clattered to the ground, leaving him impaled and helpless on the end of Ryan’s great sword.

Almost immediately his knees buckled, but Ryan’s grip held him in place, a pathetic fly on the end of his tormentor’s needle. His neck was suddenly not strong enough to support his head, and he found himself sinking, his vision tilting so that he was half staring at the ground. Blackness flickered through his mind, promising sleep as his eyelids slipped lower over his eyes. Just out of reach was a flash of green, a checkered scarf that Gavin had somehow managed to sneak on under the costume. Every now and again he would glimpse a tuft of wild brown hair, a slender wrist, the closed eyes of his best friend.

_Gavin._ The name was a sigh, an exhalation, the sound of giving up. He just wanted to curl up next to his friend, to fall into his arms and hear that everything was okay.

A hand fisted in his curls, the strong grip wrenching his chin upwards so that he was looking into the eyes of the Mad King. The rest of his body sagged against the grip, ready to take its place by Gavin’s side.

“Yes, you did well,” Ryan said almost soothingly, and his fingers moved gently through Michael’s hair in a strangely comforting gesture. “They would have called you the Righteous King, I think. It’s too bad that you had to love him. You practically killed yourself.” He shook his head slowly and peered into Michael’s heavy lidded eyes. “You’ll share the same fate, at least.” He shrugged, pulling his sword free in a sickeningly slow motion and releasing Michael’s head.

And Michael finally fell, crumpling to the dirt and resting his cheek against the cool surface. As Ryan sauntered into the distance, already bored with the display, Michael dragged one arm across the ground. His fingers grasped weakly at the air as he reached out, seeking the familiar touch one last time.

After what seemed like an eternity, his outstretched fingers met Gavin’s, and he was able to close his hand around his best friend’s.

With one final, hollow sigh, he sank into the touch and closed his eyes.


End file.
